User blog comment:Biggren/The Mice of Wintor/@comment-3094815-20180611160150

The wood seemed strangely quiet, almost peaceful, compared to the dashing of footpaws without, and the mouse paused in her flight, leaning against a gnarled oak, taking in the scene about her. Sunlight dappled upon ferns and leafy underbrush, filtering through the spreading branches of the tallest trees. Camellie rummaged in the pouch at her side and pulled out a rolled up piece of parchment. Glancing about to be sure that she had given her pursuers the slip, the unrolled it. Inside was scrawled a simple note, her cousin, Rikk Woodren. ''Dearest Cousin, I hope that this letter finds you and you are well. I have decided to rest my adventuring footpaws awhile at a lovely place called Wintor. I shall be here a few seasons, mayhap, and if you ever do find yourself in the area, it would be a pleasure to see your face again. All the best, Rikk''

A frown crossed her brow as she returned the letter to her pouch. It had been four seasons before the letter had even reached her, and she hoped that she could at least find information on her cousin's current whereabouts at this Wintor place, and if she was lucky, he might still be there. Having nearly arrived, and being waylaid upon the way by vermin, she hoped that the place wasn't overrun. It wouldn't do to get captured by vermin, enslaved or worse. Throwing her hood over her head, she continued into the wood, her plan being to circle around and regain the path.